The Price of the Hunt
by NativeStar
Summary: John struggles to deal with the aftermath when both Sam and Dean are injured on a hunt. Gen Wee!Chester fic.  Dean is 12, Sam is 8.


Title: The Price of the Hunt  
Author: NativeStar  
Word Count: 3,140  
Rating: PG-13  
Warnings: None  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: John struggles to deal with the aftermath when both Sam and Dean are injured on a hunt. Gen Wee!Chester, Dean is 12, Sam is 8.

A/N: Huge thank you to Extra Onions on LJ for the fantastic beta work. Her help and suggestions have been invaluable :) 

* * *

The first time John left his boys in the car to go hunting was also the last. 

John stood, back pressed up against the wall of the hallway so hard he felt like he could almost be a part of it. Busy staff passed him without a second glance.

_They were supposed to be safe in the car. _

John stared through the glass of the double doors. Barely blinking, because to blink would be to not see and right now John needed to see every second of it. The air around him felt oppressive, closing in on him.

_They weren't supposed to leave the car._

There was nothing he could do and it tore at him. He was powerless and on the verge of losing everything. Forced to watch by the sidelines, just as he had when he had lost Mary.

His world narrowed to a tunnel, focusing solely on the events unfolding behind the doors.

_This shouldn't have happened._

A nurse rushed out, hurrying down the corridor and around the corner.

As the doors swung, John briefly heard what was going on inside.

"BP's falling, 80 over 60-- "

"Heartbeat's erratic!"

"Hang another unit and book an OR."

"Push another mil of epi--"

The door swung back cutting John off from his son once again.

_This _can't _be happening._

* * *

Hours later, John found himself sitting by his son's bed in the children's ward, cradling a warm cup of coffee in his hands. 

It was relatively quiet with the exception of the nurses' hourly checks. A far cry from the commotion of the ER.

He watched his youngest breathe.

In and out.

Softly and easily.

Concussion, the doctor had told him. Scrapes and bruises and a mild concussion. Sam had an IV for dehydration but otherwise all he needed was time and rest. He'll be fine, the doctor said. John found that hard to accept given that Sam couldn't stay awake for more than five minutes. A day or two for observation he'd been told and Sam would be discharged which was more than could be said about Dean.

_God, Dean._

Dean had suffered massive blood loss as well as internal bleeding and a fractured arm.

_I should have been faster, found the damn thing quicker._

John had killed the black dog in the woods, returning to the Impala victorious, intending to treat his sons to ice cream. Instead he found his sons bleeding and broken.

John swore his heart stopped for a second as he had walked out of the woods and saw Dean crumpled by the open door of the Impala, blood slowly pooling beneath him. Sam had laid stretched out just behind Dean, a red lump already forming on his forehead.

Neither was conscious.

John broke just about all the speed limits on the way to the hospital.

He still didn't know exactly what had happened.

He didn't know why they left the car.

He didn't know how the thing had doubled back to the car before he had killed it.

He didn't know if Dean would make it.

Dean had been in surgery for three hours.

* * *

Sam slept on, rousing only briefly for the checks. John sat unmoving in the hard plastic seat, eyes on Sam and mind on Dean. 

Reluctant to leave Sam alone, he got up only to alleviate his numb ass and to question the nurses on Dean's progress.

They kept telling John that as soon as they had any news they would come tell him.

Dean had been in surgery for four hours.

* * *

John sighed; no news was good news, right? 

Sam moaned softly and shifted slightly in the bed. He'd been showing signs of waking up for the past half hour.

"Shhh, Sammy, you're alright." John squeezed Sam's hand gently "You gonna open your eyes for me, son?"

Sam sighed and slept on.

_I guess not._

Ten minutes later, Sam's nurse came in to check on him. She was young and petite with blonde hair tied up into a bun. She gave John a soft smile whenever she came in and he noticed this time, with a pang of grief, that her nametag said Mary. With gentleness and persistence Mary got Sam to open his eyes and tell her his name and birthday.

"Has there been any news?" John asked.

Mary shook her head.

"I'm sorry, not yet." She tucked the covers up round Sam, who had fallen asleep again, in a way that John could tell she had children of her own, then she left him alone.

Dean had been in surgery for 5 hours.

_No news __really isn't good news,_ John decided_ it's just no news. Plain and simple and nerve-racking._

* * *

It had been almost six hours since Dean had been taken to surgery when John noticed a surgeon heading towards him. His face was grim. John's heart skipped a beat and his throat tightened as he stood. 

"Mr Winchester? I'm Doctor Sampson, I operated on your son."

Numbly, John shook hands with him. The surgeon's name barely registered and was promptly forgotten.

"Please, my son, is he…?"

"Your son made it through the surgery. There were some complications but he's now resting comfortably in recovery." John's legs refused to hold his weight and he sunk down into the chair.

"Thank god!"

Doctor Samson dragged a chair over from the corner and sat opposite John.

"I must warn you, Mr Winchester, your son is still in critical condition. Right now we're cautiously optimistic. The next 24 hours are important. If he makes it through without further complications then his chances of a full recovery are good."

John briefly closed his eyes, sighing in relief while Doctor Sampson continued to explain Dean's injuries.

"Your son suffered a collapsed lung caused by a fractured rib which unfortunately also nicked his spleen. We've repaired your son's punctured lung with a chest tube to drain off the excess fluid and that will stay in for at least a few days. Right now, he's on a ventilator due to both the shock and to give his lung a chance to heal. He lost a lot of blood so we've also transfused him with a couple of units of blood."

The doctor paused waiting for a second while John processed the information. "It was touch and go for a while whether we would have to remove the spleen and there was an additional bleed which we initially missed but, thankfully, we were able to stop the bleeding and barring any further problems, it should be fine."

There was another pause. John's relief that Dean had survived the surgery was dampened by the realisation of just how sick his boy was.

"We also had a problem keeping his blood pressure up while he was in surgery and he briefly went into cardiac arrest, but we got him back quickly. Now that the bleeding has stopped and with the transfusion we don't expect any additional problems although we will be monitoring him closely."

John was shocked.

_Dean almost died in surgery._

He almost missed the doctor asking him if he had any questions. Swallowing hard and not trusting his voice, John absently shook his head.

The doctor rose. "He'll be in recovery for the next hour or so and then we're moving him up to PICU."

John looked up with a tight smile.

"Thank you," he managed softly.

His boy was alive.

* * *

Standing in Sam's doorway John wondered if the nurses would allow him into recovery to see Dean.

"Daddy?" Sam's sleepy voice broke John out of his thoughts. Relief flowed as John walked over.

"Hey, Sammy." Deep inside John something unclenched. Just a little. "Glad you decided to join us, son."

"What happened, Daddy?"

"I…" John gently brushed the hair off Sam's forehead. "Honestly son, I don't know. I came back to the car and…do you remember anything?"

_Please, don't let him remember Dean being attacked._

Sammy shook his head minutely before stopping, tears welling in his eyes.

"My head hurts, Daddy."

John bit his lip.

"I know Sammy, you hit it quite hard. I'll get the nurses to give you something for it." John whispered.

"Ok," Sam's eyes were drooping and John continued stroking Sam's dark hair. "Where's Dean, Daddy?" Sam was almost asleep but opened his eyes searching the room for his big brother. "Was he hurt too?"

"Yeah," Sam's eyes snapped wide open, "but he's gonna be alright, Sammy, the doctors have him in a different room so they can look after him." John cleared his voice, keeping it steady. "He's gonna be fine, son."

Sam was wide awake now.

"Can I go see him? I need to see Dean, Daddy."

"No, you can't Sammy, not yet."

Sam started to sit up, despite the pain it clearly caused.

"Why not? If he's hurt he might need me." Sam's eyes filled with tears.

Gently restraining his son, John said "Sam, look at me buddy." He waited until Sam met his eyes. "Dean's sick, ok, but I promise you he will be alright." John wiped the tears from Sam's checks. "Right now, I need you to be brave. You have to be a big boy, ok? Can you do that for me? For Dean?"

A tear escaped, trickling down Sam's face as he nodded. He lay back down and John began smoothing back his hair again.

"Good boy," John pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead.

Slowly, soothed by the repetitive motion of John's hand, Sam drifted off to sleep.

Silently, John prayed to God that he had not just lied to his son.

John stood with a sigh, stretching, and left to check on Dean.

* * *

It wasn't the first time John had been into an ICU nor would it probably be the last. It was, however, the first time it had been to visit his son.

_God, please let it be the first and last time._

The nurse let him know which bed and explained that there were a lot of machines and monitors surrounding his son. That it could be alarming but they were helping Dean.

But when John saw Dean he decided the nurse couldn't have been more wrong.

_It's not alarming, it's downright terrifying._

Dean looked so _fragile_. Blood pressure, pulse oximeter, leads, catheters, IVs and half a dozen other monitors John didn't recognise were attached to his small body. A ventilator regularly pushed air into Dean's lungs.

Tears clouded John's eyes and he sat, taking Dean's hand carefully into his own.

_I'm so sorry__, Dean. So sorry. This shouldn't have happened. No hunt is worth this. No hunt. Please. Please, don't die._

* * *

After an hour, John reluctantly left Dean's side to check on Sam. John found Sam still peacefully asleep. The bruise on his forehead stood out starkly against his pale skin, a sharp reminder of John's failure to protect his boys.

"I'm sorry, Sam," John whispered.

* * *

John eventually left Sam to return to Dean stopping on the way to grab a cup of mud masquerading as coffee. As he entered the ward, several members of the staff rushed by him into his son's room. Coffee forgotten, he charged into the room in time to see his son's body jerk on the bed as 200 joules of electricity passed through.

"Anything?"

"Still nothing."

"Ok, charging…Clear!" Again electricity surged through Dean's body as the doctors tried to coax his heart to beat once more.

"I'm not getting anything,"

"How long has he been down now?"

"10 minutes," The taste of coffee felt bitter in John's mouth. It had taken him 10 minutes to find the damned coffee machine.

"Ok, Starting CPR, push another round of Epi and charge to 300." Barely breathing John watched, standing against the door. He felt powerless once again, trusting his son's life to strangers.

"Epi's in."

_Come on, Dean, come on. Dean. Come on, come back to us, son._

"Right. Charging to 300,"  
_Please._

"Wait!"

An unsteady beeping filled the room, slowly settling into something resembling a rhythm. It was the sweetest sound John had ever heard. Feeling light headed, John collapsed against the door and breathed again.

* * *

"Mr Winchester? Sir, I'm sorry but we need you to come down to the children's ward,"

With effort John dragged his eyes away from the commotion of doctors to the nurse who held his elbow. It was Mary.

"Sammy? Is my son ok?"

Dean needed him right now.

"He's had a nightmare and the nurses can't calm him down." She understood John's dilemma. "Your son, Dean, he's in good hands. He'll be ok."

"Like he was the last time I left him." It seemed Dean knew when he was alone.

_I can't be in two places at once._

One of the doctors overheard and approached John. The slightly overweight doctor was old enough to be John's father and had a head of grey hair. John was reassured that there was someone who clearly had a lot of experience working on his son.

"Dean's blood pressure bottomed out which caused his heart to stop. We're adjusting his medications and we're going to take him down for a CT scan as a precaution to check everything's ok and make sure there's no additional bleeding." His voice was deep and calming. It wasn't the first time he had dealt with concerned parents. "It's going to take at least an hour. Why don't you take that time to go see your other son, maybe get some food and we'll let you know when Dean gets back." He squeezed John's shoulder. "We'll take good care of him."

"Thank you," John whispered, offering a wan smile.

He took another longing look at Dean, who was almost lost between the medical staff and the equipment then he let his feet guide him back to Sammy.

* * *

"Daddy!" Sam practically screamed his name, launching himself into John's arms as soon as he was close enough. Quietly excusing herself, the nurse left, giving them some privacy.

"Shhh, it's ok, Sammy, you're alright now." He held his son tightly. It wasn't clear which one of them needed hugging the most.

"Want to tell me what it was about, kiddo?" He whispered into Sammy's hair with a quick kiss.

"They were hurting Dean," came Sammy's voice muffled by John's shoulder.

John's arms tightened around Sam as he realised his son was probably remembering the attack. Sitting on the bed, he rearranged Sam in his arms until he could see his face.

"Who were?"

"Men in white coats like the doctors. They kept hitting him on his chest." Sam sniffed, tear tracks drying on his face while fresh tears welled in his eyes.

"They hurt Dean, Daddy," Sam's looked up at him, eyes pleading with John to do something.

"It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare." John whispered.

_God, no more __TV medical dramas for Sammy._

As he reassured him, John hoped Sam would never know how close to the truth his nightmare had come.

"It's ok, Sammy; it was just a bad dream. Dean's fine." Through sheer force of will John's voice didn't crack.

"Can I go see Dean?"

"You're supposed to stay here, Sam, so the doctors can keep an eye on you."

John sighed heavily, feeling torn. There was no way he could be in two places at once, but both his sons needed him so badly and he to be honest he needed them just as badly. Reaching a solution John gathered up his son in his blankets, rested the IV bag on his shoulder and walked out the room.

* * *

John sat in his chair by Dean's bedside, watching the rhythmic bouncing of the heart monitor. The accompanying soft beeping reassured him, told him Dean was still fighting. Dean had thankfully made it through another hour without further incidents and the doctors were mentioning the phrase 'cautiously optimistic' again. Sammy was a comforting warm lump wrapped in blankets on John's lap. He had carried his son up to Dean's room luckily avoiding any staff that might have questioned him. Sam's eyes had been as wide as saucers and filled with fear. Hooking Sam's IV onto Dean's IV stand he had then quietly explained the equipment that he recognised around Dean and how it was helping him. He answered Sam's questions as truthfully as he could and made up reassuring answers whenever Sam pointed to something he was unfamiliar with.

Luckily, it wasn't long before exhaustion crept over Sam.

Now, both sons slept while John kept watch.

* * *

Five minutes after Sam had fallen asleep a nurse came in to take Dean's vitals. John didn't recognise her and realised it must now be the night shift. She was older than John and had a matronly look about her, like you wouldn't want to be caught breaking the rules in her ward, which was exactly what John was doing. This was confirmed as John saw the look on her face when she noticed Sam.

"I know." John kept his voice low. "He had a nightmare about his brother, they're only keeping Sam for observation so I didn't think it'd hurt for him to see Dean."

Compassion replaced disapproval.

"I'll let the nurses on his ward know he's here." She said as she carefully carried out her duties.

Surprised, John whispered, "Thank you," before returning to his vigil.

* * *

John sat for over an hour, his own exhaustion threatening to overcome him.

_I'm sorry,__ Mary, I never…I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting them. I thought I could keep them safe._

John vowed this would never happen again.

_When they'__re recovered and we start training again…I'll train them harder, better. They'll be prepared. They'll be able to protect themselves._

_This won't happen again, Mary._

The heart monitor picked up its pace slightly.

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes blinked sluggishly at John, mind clouded by drugs and too weak to protest the ventilator.

"Hey, kiddo," John smiled, tears filling his eyes. "It's ok. You're ok, they put a tube down your throat to help you breathe but you're ok. Don't fight it."

John placed a comforting hand on Dean's chest, mindful of the various leads and dressings. Through the thin cotton of the hospital issued gown he could feel the reassuringly steady beat of his son's heart.

"You gave your old man quite a scare." He said whispering, "Don't ever do that again Dean, please."

Dean blinked slowly. Then he blinked at Sam, still resting on John's lap, curled up in blankets.

"He's ok, Dean. You did good. He's a little bruised, a little worse for wear, but he's fine."

Dean's blink was much slower this time.

"It's ok, son. Get some rest." Moving his hand, John began stroking Dean's forehead with his thumb. "We'll be here when you wake up."

Dean's eyes slipped closed again and finally John allowed his own to follow.

* * *

I may do a sequel to this, following the boys' recovery and dealing with the memories of the hunt. But first I should really work on the two ficathons I've signed up for.

Reviews are gold dust! Good or bad I'd love to hear from you.


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